Current mood:

crazy

Title: No longer boys  3 / 4

Author: Parisad

Rating: FRM for this part

Warnings: mention of slash and N/C, angst

Summary: I can't see you. What happened to us? Hephaestion POV.

Notes: I had to cut the third part of my fic...it was too long!

Feedbacks: yes...

3 / 4

Curae levae locuntur, ingentes stupent.

                                                                   (Seneca, Phaedra, v. 607)

( "Faint pains talk, deep grieves are silent")

Alexander couldn't look up: he buried his face against Hephaestion's breast whispering:
- Forgive me.

Hephaestion kept silent, listening to his breathing, and Alexander's warmth upon his chest became intolerable. He turned his head to the balcony and closed the eyes without answering.

Alexander lift up his eyes and, trembling, squeezed Hephaestion's hair:

- Hephaestion...

His lover didn't stir. The King got up sitting on the bed and his eyes were blurred with tears:

- Did I hurt you?

He rested an hand on Hephaestion's arm and his lover suddenly shivered at that touch:

- Leave me, Alexander.

A deafening silence. Hephaestion felt Alexander's warmth on his arm and for the first time in his life it made him shiver:

- Get out. Please.

The warmth left him. He heard Alexander standing up slowly, the rustle of his dress on the ground, his steps moving away. Hephaestion buried his face on the cushions and he saw only darkness.

What happened to us, Alexander? Where's the light of our night?

I forgot the pain. I don't care about it.

But where's the boy living in my dreams?

Where are you, Alexander?

He got up very late and he took a bath, trying to efface the pain, the humiliation, the darkness of that morning blacker than the deepest night.

He spent the day with countless letters: the King had entrusted him with that task, to screen his correspondence, and now he was flooded with letters. It was once Eumene's task, as royal clerk: but now Eumenes had to forward every letter to him before bringing it to the King. This had grown out of all proportion the hostility between them: Eumene entered Hephaestion's rooms with the cover of letters and he put it down, greeting the general through clenched teeth, getting out as soon as possible. Hephaestion never held him back: he didn't like him and he couldn't understand why Alexander trusted him so much.

He didn't like to read that mountain of letters, petitions, claims, reports: he preferred to march, to discover new lands, he preferred the battle's dust, the simplicity of a tent, he liked to built new cities, to erect palaces, temples, bridges, he liked to draw the street of Alexander's dream.

But this time he got down hard to work, trying to forget the wound striking his soul, Alexander's crying upon his chest, the darkness of that morning.

In the evening there was another banquet: Alexander had planned to stay in Sogdiana, with his new bride, to celebrate the union between their people. Hephaestion arrived late: he only wished himself alone, away from all around him.

A boy danced flexuous, following the flute's sound and the tambourine's beat, and the King was looking at him, sipping some wine. Hephaestion soon understood he was drunk: he looked for Roxane and he saw her sitting away from Alexander, with her maids. Her eyes barely veiled watched the King and his officers but her face didn't betray any emotion, there wasn't any feeling behind that gaze deep like an abyss.

The officers laughed and everywhere resounded songs of drunk men. Hephaestion talked absently to some courtier and finally Ptolemy and Perdikkas came close to him, toasting and laughing. Their words reached him like a distant sound, a vague, meaningless murmuring.

He was drinking some wine when suddenly sensed Alexander's gaze on him and he raised his eyes. The King was looking at him and he felt again Alexander's kisses over his body and the King's fingers scratching his arms and that pain inside him, the burning heat on his chest.

I can't see you now, Alexander. I'm looking for you, but the fair boy no longer smiles.

He felt a sudden need to go away, away from that palace, away from that foreign land, away from that dream vanishing behind a meaningless future. He looked at Alexander and he saw him reeling under the wine's weight, among the laughs, he saw him falling to the ground, babbling, and he watched him as if he saw him for the first time, a man poisoned by the wine, by his ambition, by the power tearing him. He felt nauseous and suddenly moved away from Perdikkas and Ptolemy, throwing down the cup, and the wine spread over the ground like a bloodstain. Perdikkas was about to follow him, but Ptolemy stopped him:
- Leave him alone.

Ptolemy didn't know what had happened, but he understood that his words had struck Hephaestion and maybe they had opened a cleft in the relationship between him and the King: he blamed himself for that, because he had allowed tales of jealous courtiers to corrupt a love so pure, so deep.

Hephaestion was leaving the room when Cassander's voice came to his ears, challenging Alexander:

- Come on, my King, you are the son of Dyonisus...

Hephaestion spun round and he saw Cassander holding a colossal goblet of wine, bringing it to the King, and Alexander hobbled to grab it, laughing and cursing. Hephaestion felt a sudden anger: again that fool game, again that competition that left everyone speechless, unable even to reach a bed. After those drinks many had died or had become ill, and yet the courtiers encouraged those dangerous challenges...and now Cassander was instigating the King, and Alexander was already so drunk that he couldn't stand on his feet.

Ptolemy came close to Cassander warning him:

- The King is already drunk, Cassander.

The young officer shook his head laughing, that laugh so childish, cruel like only who doesn't know right from wrong can be:

- Don't worry, Ptolemy: some wine won't defeat the great conqueror...

He turned to the King smiling, handling him again the big goblet:

- Do you fear Dyonisus, my King?

The courtiers around them laughed and Oxiarte enjoyed the show, hugging two girls. Alexander took the cup and started to drink, throwing back his head, and his throat swelled out with every sip.

Suddenly a strong hand snatched the goblet from his lips and the wine spread over the furs. Hephaestion grabbed Alexander's hands, looking into his eyes, murmuring:

- Enough, my King. Stop that.

Alexander threw himself on the cushions yelling:

- How dare...

But a violent spasm of vomiting overcame him and he rested his head upon Hephaestion's arm, throwing up the wine, no longer able to talk.

Everybody was looking at the King and Hephaestion addressed to three slaves rushing to Alexander's help:

- Take him to his rooms. Never leave him.

The slaves held up the unconscious King, taking him away. Hephaestion followed him with worried eyes.

Don't hurt yourself, Alexander. I'm here. Can you see me?

I've forgiven you. Please, forgive yourself now. You ask for love: but how could you feel it if you hate yourself?

Cassander's voice came to him like a sharp and irritating sound:

- You mustn't interpose, Hephaestion. The King was enjoying the night.

Hephaestion swung round withering him with a glance:

- Be careful, Cassander: keep yourself away from Alexander.

Cassander looked at him with an hateful glance and he was about to answer, but Hephaestion hushed him:

- I warn you, Cassander.

He left the room, followed by Ptolemy.

Somewhere, Roxane was sitting quietly. His dry eyes looked away. But his hands shivered.